


Stoic

by meowchela



Category: Sam & Max
Genre: Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Minor Character Death, Violence, accidental chapter 2, hooray for impulse writing, i try to keep my stuff cute lighthearted and goofy but like, ive never had to use those tags before damn, max kills someone, so i had to fix that asap, that would have a shrug empji after it had it not been for ao3s character limits, unbetad we die like men, zero noir max fics? cmon guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowchela/pseuds/meowchela
Summary: Max interrogates a suspect on the subject of his partner's mising brain.
Relationships: very vague samax if you squint from far away
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	1. Stoic

**Author's Note:**

> you know how sam is usually calm and collected but noir!sam is just feral? well what if in contrast to that noir!max is super chill and almost unfeeling, letting his rage only show through his violent acts? this explores that a bit

"So," Max said, adjusting his hat, "What do you know about what happened to Sam?"  
The suspect glanced from him to the brainless canine in the car a few times before their eyes finally settled on Max.  
"I have no idea what you're talking about."  
An icy wind blew through the air, brushing back the tie wrapped around Max's neck like a scarf and his floppy ears, catching the wind but feeling no chill.  
"I see. Let me rephrase."  
The suspect crawled backwards as the lagomorph approached, having been already on the ground from when the car hit them. Suddenly their back was against a wall and they could only look at him, though he was barely visible through the blinding car lights.  
When he was near enough, Max gently put his foot on the stranger's bad leg-the one that had gotten hit by the DeSoto, with his shoddy steering, and looked the suspect in the eye.  
"My partner has gotten his brain stolen. Recently developed some electromagnetic powers that some people were after. Know anyone who might have some ulterior motives concerning electricity?"  
The stranger stared past him, avoiding his piercing gaze. "Nope. Not a clue."  
Max hummed, seeing through their lie like an open window. Rather than calling them out on it, he put pressure on their leg with his foot.  
They winced. They were already in pain, but the added pressure was certainly not helping their case.  
"Tell the truth this time," Max said. "Do you know anything that could help us?"  
"Us?" The suspect said, teeth gritted, "You're talking about fido over there like he's still alive?"  
Max's eyebrow creased. He pushed down harder on their leg.  
"Like I said, I don't know anything! Lemme go!"  
"Not until I get some kind of answer. Can you tell me anything at all? About strange electrical happenings or space apes or men in funny hats?"  
"Nothing about any of that." More pressure. The pain was getting to be unbearable. "B-but, hah, I did see some funky light show happening at that history museum. Kinda looked like lightning. And, now that you mention it, that guy's headwear was awful hilarious....."  
Max raised his foot, alleviating some of the stranger's pain. "Really now? What's this museum called, and how do you think I can get to it from here?"  
"The Museum Of Mostly Natural History, I think," they said, straining to remember. "A-and it was just upwards from here, if you turn around and go straight for a while then take a few lefts you should find it."  
"Thank you. This information is very useful." His face was stoic. Unfazed. The most emotion he had shown all night was at their comment about Sam, and even then it was slight. The stranger didn't even realize he was taking out his gun until they felt it against their temple.  
"Of course, you did lie to me for most of our chat. Liars like you deserve retribution. It was a huge waste of time, you know. Poor Sam has been decaying like the food in the back of our fridge." Max loaded his luger and pressed it harder against the suspect's head. "You know what it feels like to decay, don't you?"  
"No...." the stranger whispered, voice shaking and barely audible.  
Max stomped on their leg and ground it into the floor. "You're about to find out."  
The shot rang through the whole block, echoing off the brick of the alleyway and getting tossed between the walls of the buildings like fresh gossip in a school cafeteria. Max blew the smoke off the tip of his gun and trudged back to the DeSoto, not even sparing the stranger a final glance.  
Backing out of the alleyway, he recalled the directions he was given and followed them to the best his memory would allow. He had a museum to find, for Sam's sake.  
He was doing this all for Sam.


	2. Driven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max thinks to himself as he drives around, looking for answers. The C.O.P.S. don't help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was supposed to be a one shot
> 
> then i had more ideas and this chapter happened  
> oops
> 
> if i have even more ideas for this concept i'll probably make a separate fic, or maybe revise this one timeline-wise to make em all fit together as one story, who knows. for now, enjoy this!

The car engine rumbled, joining the howling wind in a mundane duet. Max flicked a switch and the car roof raised, closing off the cabin of their convertible car. During the interrogations he had preferred to have it open so he could keep an eye on Sam, but now that he had the information he needed it just let the cold air in. Well, half of the information anyway.  
He had the name of the place. He would’ve had directions as well had it not been for his faulty memory.  
Pulling over to the side of the road, he reached over Sam’s slumped form with a “ ‘scuse me” to pull the maps out of the glove box. He laid them all out flat on the seat and scanned them, as well as the surrounding area, to figure out how to get to the museum.  
“Oh, woe! Rows and rows of woes and woes!” Bob piped up from the back of the car. “Where did this night go so wrong?”  
“It was approximately nine p.m. when Max took a bathroom break,” Curt started to recount, “And that is when disaster struck..”  
Chippy beeped aggressively a few times.  
“Well geez, you have no need to use such language. How was I supposed to know Bob’s question was rhetorical.”  
Chippy beeped again, and Curt whirred as the mechanical equivalent of a sigh.  
“Pipe down,” Max said, “I’ve almost got it.”  
“Or what?” Bob said, “It’s so boring being silent! Let us speak!”  
“Pipe down or I’ll personally gut you, rearrange your circuits, and sell you for parts when you stop working correctly.” He flipped around the map he was looking at, scrutinizing it. “That’s what.”  
That shut them up. Max continued to stare until he finally found what he was looking for.  
“Hold these,” he said, putting the maps in Sam’s lap. “Thank you.” He got back onto the driver’s seat and nudged the cinder block back onto the gas pedal.  
Now well on his way and blessed (cursed?) with the silence of the C.O.P.S, he could only think to himself as he drove.  
How could he have let this happen.  
It wasn’t supposed to end like this. He refused to accept it. They were supposed to go out together, in a colorful, fizzy bang of fireworks or explosives or some other flashy, showy, exaggerated-yet-painless experience. Then, after the display was over, they would continue to wreak havoc together in the afterlife for all eternity.  
Not this.  
He had never imagined something like this. It would be beyond his comprehension had it not been the reality he was forced to face.Could this be considered facing it, though? Trying his hardest to challenge the supernatural, to spit in the face of fate and rewrite reality?  
It was much easier to do this kind of thing when they were together.  
He let his mind drift back to the whole afterlife thing. Did Sam’s spirit already pass on? Or was he restless, now, still walking the earth? Max hoped the chill he felt was his partner still sitting by his side, encouraging him in a voice only the damned could hear. But the moment passed, and Max realized it was only the piercing night air and the wind of the moving vehicle.  
It still baffled him how the whole situation slipped through his very fingertips. He was right there! How had he not heard his screams from the bathroom? Did he even scream when it happened? What if he had cried out for Max’s help, only to be disappointed when he inevitably didn’t come? Was that the last thing Sam had ever felt for him? Disappointment, or a wish for something better?  
He squeezed his eyes shut and shook the very thought out of his head. He had to focus. There was still a sliver of a chance that Sam was salvageable, and he was going to do all he could to get him back.  
Of course, as luck would have it, he found himself to be lost again. He pulled over with a sigh, knocking the cinder block off the gas again, and took the maps away from Sam’s slouched form to take another look.  
“This is approximately the third time you’ve had to pull us over to look at those maps,” Bob chimed.  
“I was serious about the gutting thing, you know,” Max said, but though it held true his voice lacked it’s edge. He was tired. This was tiring.  
He just wanted Sam back.


End file.
